Hyponatremia

Savannah Stutevoss - University of the Incarnate Word

“I can’t let you go,” I say to him. I feel guilt inside as the water slowly rises. I stare into his face, so worn, so tired. It cracks like the bones of an ancient home, yet still stands, regardless of it all. I fear what I am doing to him.

“Why am I here?” he asks. The obvious question, the stupid question. The question used in the movies to buy time, to stall, to settle.

“Let me tell you a little story” I say, “before the water rises up higher”.